The Auspices of Love

So many years ago;

Close like yesterday.

Far away like a lifetime ago.

 

39 years old.

Nothing to show for it.

Except pain, tears and self destruction.

 

Doors opened with the flashing of a still blade.

Hearts opened, emotion spilled.

On stage and life.

 

Diversity of age, race and outlook.

So many ideas never before dreamt of.

Let alone pondered.

 

I am not alone!

Soul family, blood family.

Love.

 

Ordinary Angels.

Unaware of their “angelic” qualities.

Or “Fae” attributes.

 

Just people like you and me.

Doing the best that they can.

Holding up a candle in the darkness.

 

55 Years old.

I’m not a rich man.

But I have a treasure trove of family.

 

Blood and Soul.

Who wrap around me as I do them.

Watch out for each other.

 

Share this special magic.

I see in their hearts.

This magic, I think better known, as the auspices of love.

 

K.J.K. – 1/12/2012

 

The Undertaker's Coughing

The Undertaker's coughing, there’s a fever in the land.

The Undertaker's coughing, it’s more then scientists understand.

The Undertaker's coughing, there’s nothing more they can do.

The Undertaker's coughing, it was some kind of flu.

 

The Undertaker's coughing, there’s a fever in the land.

The Undertaker's coughing, he thought himself a righteous man.

The Undertaker's coughing, he has nails 2 by 2.

The Undertaker's coughing, he knows what he must do.

 

The Undertaker's coughing, there’s a fever in the land.

The Undertaker's coughing, wood shaped with paper sand.

The Undertaker's coughing, answering his call.

The Undertaker's coughing, to bury the last of mankind’s great fall.

 

The Undertaker's coughing, there was a fever in the land.

The Undertaker's coffin, covered deep in the sand.

The Undertaker's coffin, does he sleep inside?

The Undertaker's coffin, the last man to live at the turning of the tide.

 

 

K.J.K. – 03/15/2013

 

The Pan

I am 10.

The green swing set with yellow seats.

Motions of a stormy day.

 

When the waters stated pouring.

In to a heart.

That already knew.

 

And I am The Pan.

The little boy.

Never to grow old.

 

The hornets knew.

Even if frightening:

The hornets knew and protected.

 

The place of where I transgress.

Grip the sword of warrior.

Dipped in hemlock emotion.

 

And I am The Pan

See the was in front

What could of been.

 

If I never grew up.

To Give up that spark

Called wonder.

 

The Land calls me.

To the resting table

Altar of the passing plate.

 

Gather us hand in hand.

Heart to heart.

Celebrate this change.

 

Tears watering the roots of tomorrow.

As Land quakes.

And I am still The Pan.

 

 

K.J.K.  5-15-03

 

 

Fonts Haunt Me

Well, still having some font issues buy everything looks much better now.  You will find that some poems seem to be in a bigger font size then the others.  Yet when I edit them everything is the same.  Grrrrr! So I think this is the way it all has to stay for now. At least until Blogger (Google) fixes their editor. So, probably forever...

Humans

(The Human Chronicles, Part 1)

Perhaps it's because the way I was raised.
    Perhaps it's because of those around me.
        Perhaps there is no reason.

Computers I understand.
    Work the magick of -
        Bit, Byte, Modem.

Cats I understand.
    The need for heat.
        Constant grooming.

Humans, my fellow humans.
    I just don't get them.
        Yes means no, no means yes, maybe...

The walls we build.
    Custom, practice, tradition
        Boys don't cry.

Sex is love.
    Love ain't sex.
        Forever is the next morning.

Don't put wallets in front pockets.
    I can't sit down
        That way!

All wanted is to reach out.
    But the fear keeps the corners.
        Only places to sit.

Rejection is modus operandi
    Love should be repaid with the same.
        Not pushed aside, blocked with walls.

Humans.
    So many rules.
        Break them all!!!

What is society?
    Why allow it to dictate to the soul?
        How do you know this is bad for me??

Inside the bird soars.
    Outside he sits in a corner.
        Grounded......

K.J.K. 2-11-01

End of the World

They said the world would end.

Four days ago.

Instead, a cold wind blows.

It is December, after all.

All the energy spent -

By the popular press.

Tabloid tales -

Doom and destruction.

Yet the sun still shines.

The wind still blows.

The rain still falls.

Droplets on brown leaves.

Inside a microcosm -

Bacteria scurry about.

Like they always have.

But there is something different.

The change is almost undetectable.

Transitions rarely begin with a bang.

Rather they are another step.

Forward in this paragon of existence.

God is wise.

And has unlimited patience.

K.J.K.  12/1/2012

End Times 9

It thumps against wooden door.

Heavy hand to knocker.

The house echoes with it.

No answer.

No lights.

No smoke from chimney.

Snow crunches under foot.

The un-shoveled gangway.

Leading to the empty yard.

Waterless birdbath.

Swingset -

Now only moving to the breeze.

The abject condition of life.

Has been here before him.

The doors are all shut.

The wind blows.

The Cold Man lets go of the papers.

The wind takes them and they scatter.

To all ends of the Earth.

As do we.

K.J.K. – 11/7/2012

Enchantress

It flows through you, this energy.

Shining like some light.

Drawing me close; like moths to the flame.

Calling me with some hidden spell.

Oh - you are magick!

Invoke your calling; summon wind, rain, and fire.

Enchant me.....

K.J.K.          10-30-96

Words Again

Sometimes fleeting.

Sometimes overwhelming.

Thick like peanut butter.

Thin like blood.

Drawn on joy.

Remembered tears.

So many experiences.

Spoken aloud.

There is magic in meter.

Rolling of tongue.

The far pressed syllables.

Stressed beyond belief.

Until they break.

Like icicles on the mind.

Embedding their point.

Still - yet screaming.

Waking something within.

That spark of ingenious madness.

Calling pen to paper.

Write!

K.J.K. 08/20/2012

Hotness

Memorial Day weekend, 2012;

The hottest Memorial Day weekend in history.

Train to tower was packed with both sun worshipers and moon children.

Nary could a seat be found.

Dogging sweaty passengers until there are cars no more.

Look up; it shines like a golden beacon in the night.

Run, run before someone else sees -

The one last open seat on the train.

Victory! Claim the prize.

Two less barking dogs.

A knee that doesn’t hurt nearly as much.

A body at rest.

Catch up on Facebook updates, get ticket out.

Sound of riding the rails and –

Giggling kisses?

Turn to look, ever so carefully.

A young, early 20’s couple sit in two seats facing each other.

He, dark skinned perhaps from India. Curly hair, mustache -

Wearing white pants, white shirt and a red bowtie.

Her a light skinned lady with long brown hair and many freckles.

She is wearing some kind of puffy white dress.

Puffy sleeves with lace, um, “things” on them.

Kid you not; she has a white flower in her hair.

Can’t tell much more because they are kissing.

They are kissing.

Kissing.

And kissing.

Demonstrating that America is, indeed, still a melting pot.

There must be some more Facebook posts.

Damn!  Nothing.  Evidently everyone else has real lives, too.

Book, book, is there a book to read?

Damn! Nothing.

The scenery passes by.

“Tickets!”

A conductor has never before been such a welcome sight.

He stamps it and moves on to the couple.

“Tickets.”

“Giggle, smooch, smooch.”

“Tickets!”

“Giggle, smooch, smooch.”

“TICKETS!”

“Giggle, smooch, smooch.”

Whisper – “tickets?”

“Giggle, smooch, smooch.”

The conductor looks momentarily around.

All who were looking one second ago seem to found a newspaper or something.

Oh look there’s a Facebook post from last week, let’s re-read it.

The conductor shrugs and walks to the next car.

30 minutes later train is at tower.

The dogs and knees are happy if the faster ones leave first.

Including, thank God, the couple.

The platform is nearly deserted.

The conductor is looking over his ticket book.

Eyes are caught.

“Hot day, eh”?

He smiles: “Going to need a cold shower today, man!”

The dogs bark.

The knees pop.

Distance is tread, each others laughter still echoing in the ears.

Yup, gonna need a cold shower tonight, for sure.

K.J.K. 06-08-2012